Impenetrable Wall
by Desperate Siege
Summary: AU: Hope Estheim enrolls as a new student at Bodhum High, only to run into the invincible soldier known only as Lightning. She's a glacier bent on making him suffer, but little does he know that she has run from a terrible fate... Hope/Lightning.
1. Think Back to the Past

****Disclaimer:** **I do not own _Final Fantasy XIII_ – or its amazing sequel – but I'd love to. This piece takes place in an alternate universe, where the events of the game never occurred, yet the fal'Cie still exist, as well as l'Cie and the Cie'th. However, the rules of the l'Cie are vastly different, and so are the rules for the fal'Cie and Cie'th. However, Cocoon and Pulse are still mortal enemies. This is the only time I will be posting a disclaimer on any of my stories, unless it is pertinent to the story itself.

**Author's Note: **Hello there, my dear reader! This is my first-ever fanfiction, and I hope it's good enough. Please, _please_ tell me if the characters are out of character; I'm not a very good writer, but I want to be. Hope you enjoy the chapter! Reviews are kind of a big part in whether or not I continue this... I'm on the third chapter right now, but it would be wonderful to have a little positive (or negative, if it's a bad story)feedback to look forward to! And without further ado, the fanfiction shall begin. ヾ(´□｀* )ノ

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE: THINK BACK TO THE PAST<strong>

_She huffed; that shot had almost set her into the ground if it weren't for her quick feet. Gripping the mechanical saber resting in her right hand with unyielding force, the girl, who looked to be about thirteen, slashed through a few opposing soldiers, sweat beginning to form on her delicate brow. Her strawberry blonde locks spiraled down to the left of her head, ending about five inches from her shoulder. A dark pauldron with two bright yellow lines glowed in the light; it was an insignia of her force, the Guardian Corps. Another blow from a grenade launcher bit the dirt merely a yard from where she was standing, and she pulled her body painfully into a fierce stance, ready to destroy whatever horror was waiting for her._

_Three soldiers marched through the billowing dust, and circled her, disorienting her previous plan. They were learning new tactics… huh. She shifted the weight of her blade, gathering up the strength for a different attack to meet their different strategy. Without a word, the girl spun once, the sword slashing through layers of clothing and skin, leaving gashes on the trio's torsos. A meek smile later, and the group fell to the ground, unable to get up. Snickering indignantly, the teen stepped over their warm, weak bodies and outstretched her free arm right in front of her, seemingly to clear the cloud of dust. A second later, a large blast of electricity jolted down from the heavens and sizzled the very ground, and the atmosphere was now clear again._

_A grenade launcher was just inches from her face moments later, and her blue eyes screamed in terror. Quick, honed reflexes deftly snatched the bazooka and tossed it to the side, leaving the previously armed soldier now without a weapon. He was dropped to the ground within seconds, and the lithe youth continued on her quest through the line of troops, dealing with each posse in a similar, efficient fashion. Her strength had begun to wean, but her body showed no signs of this; her resolve for revenge growing with every unconscious body._

_The sound of a trumpet sounding sent shivers down her spine, and the girl stepped back, staring at the damage her dangerous saber had caused. Her very own mind had forbidden her hand to be the cause of any death to this day, but it seemed as if she had disobeyed her own ruling, and she trembled, dropping the blade to the ground. It landed shortly after, but not before a metallic _twang_ hit the air. Fingers delicately caressed her mouth as if they could cage the shock of the turmoil, but no such boon befell her and she stumbled to the ground, staring with her sizzling blue eyes at the aftermath of her wrath._

_Of course, PSICOM did in fact deserve her anger. They deserved more than to just be pinned down after what they had done to the adolescent, yet a force beyond her own willed her to keep every one of their troops alive. Her pauldron glowed in glee in the sun's gentle rays, but she was anything from happy. She had just wanted to go home; she hadn't expected such an onslaught of cadets to hound her like dogs. It was just a normal day. She had trained for a few hours in the back of the school that she was supposed to be learning in, using recess and other breaks as reconnaissance practice. She had not in a million years expected that a squadron of PSICOM troops was eyeing her the entire time._

_The alleyway was now suddenly extremely small, and she cursed her insecurity enough to clam up the feelings that went with it. Quickly standing and then shifting into a defensive position, the teen held out her free hand in the same manner that she had previously, and instead of a bolt raining down from the sky, a blue wisp seeped out of her skin and shrouded her being for merely a moment, then the light vanished. Scars scattered across her pale skin had been patched up, and all that was remaining of her trouble were faint lines in their stead. She sighed and picked up the blade, then stuck it back into its sheath, hanging behind her._

_Walking backwards at first, the girl managed to turn around and enter the sidewalk, crowded with spectators who had been watching her fight. Shrugging them off nonchalantly, the girl began to blend into the moving congregate of people, wanting to drop the whole incident as fast as it had befallen her young self. The operatives who had cornered her in the alleyway wanted to pry intelligence out of her; seemingly for the next battle that was surely going to take place soon. The two branches of the military of the floating shell had been warring for a few years now, and during one of the earlier battles, she had lost a woman and a man very dear to her… the teenager had lost her parents in a struggle that could have been avoided._

_Yet she couldn't bring herself to think back to that day, when the news had dawned upon both young sisters. She didn't want to, and instead she focused on the path ahead, to what she would tell that same sister, Serah. The girl watched as passerby busied themselves with cellphones or companions, their chatter filling the air with noise and unrest. Eventually, she even found the buzz to be warm and welcomed into her throbbing head; the former battles had been a little rough, though she would be the last one to admit it. But most of all, she didn't know what to tell the worried youth sitting at home, waiting for her to return._

_Leather boots covered her feet, which were automatically making their way up to her apartment. Surely the government would have dropped the close siblings off with unsuspecting foster parents if the little soldier hadn't agreed to join their ranks. But parts of her knew it was the right choice, parts of her wanted to become an automaton so as to drown out any and all emotion in preparation for her revenge. Nevertheless, she was unsure of herself, at least, at first. But then, she was allowed some leniency, then freedom to do as she chose, and eventually the talented youth ripped through the ranks of the Corps, leading to where she was now: a sergeant at thirteen. Not the first choice of most young teens, but was definitely hers._

As she unlatched the pouch strapped to her thigh and fished out the key to the door, the girl couldn't help but think back to the past. She had been living here, with Serah, for a solid five years. The pauldron on her shoulder was till up and running, as it had all those years ago, but she couldn't help but plaster a bittersweet smile on her face at the memories of her younger self. The naïve thoughts that had wormed their way into her head nine years ago, the ones that spoke to her of bravery and faith, had ceased to affect her soon after. It was due to the careful reckoning of Serah. Everything that the stoic woman had ever done in her short life, to this day, was for her sister's safe upbringing. She had forgotten how to be a child, and she honestly didn't want to remember.

The memories tasted like worn metal as they seared her tongue, and the soldier pushed the door inwards, licking her lips tactfully. One groan and a warm cuddle later, she found herself sitting on the couch with a concerned Serah wiping crimson blood from the side of her mouth. Ah, so that was where the pang originated. Brow furrowed, the woman pulled out the shining blade, inspecting it for what must have been the thousandth time. Her finesse was out of habit and nerves; she always stared at the sharp steel when things got rough. Serah noticed this and pulled back, her eyebrows matching the woman's.

"Lightning! It's your birthday, don't even think about it!"

Her tone was brisk and held an unsettling edge to it, uncharacteristic for the girl. Lightning brought her head up to meet her blue gaze with Serah's; they went on like this for what must have been more than a few minutes, because her sister cleared her throat involuntarily to catch the woman's attention. She sighed, and put the gunblade off to her side on the creamy sofa, crossing her arms later.

"I just quit; hardly a matter to get upset over."

"They were the only ones who believed you, you know."

"I'll find a way. And keep Raines out of this, he's... more than a little..."

Her sister nodded in quaint understanding. Cid Raines, the general of the Corps and Lightning's superior, had been harboring a crush on the woman ever since she poured her heartbreaking tale of woe into his ears a little over a year ago. It was extremely obvious, and even the dense, level-headed recipient of his charms had realized that he liked her, though their age difference was jarring and more than a little disturbing. Serah moved the blade that her sister held so dear and let it rest upon the coffee table, then took Lightning's hand into hers, gripping it with uncertainty.

"Promise me one thing, Light. Promise me that you will make an effort."

"In what?" She scoffed lightly, trying to lighten the mood in a miserable attempt.

"Go back to school. And before you even start, there are some things that only school can teach you, not me."

"I don't need to learn those things. What I need to do is protect you."

The stoic statue's sibling pulled her hands away and into her own lap, sighing. Lightning was as stubborn as can be, and today was no exception. Leaning back to let her head rest against the soft pillow of the couch, Lightning crossed her legs adamantly, and then copied her sister's sigh. She had hoped that Serah would swallow the whole ordeal much easier than this, but the woman boldly stood up to her, as she always did. Her sister had let her copy down her notes and she learned from them as Serah went through her education, and in turn the soldier had retained much of the information fairly well. As she had spent much of her time honing her skills and finding work to sustain the household, Lightning eventually stopped going to school altogether, reasoning that it was easier of she just stayed home and trained instead of being put on a roster and missing a lesson each day.

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><p>"You use Lightning as your full name, correct? And you aren't too keen on disclosing your real name to me, right?"<p>

"Right."

"Not one for words, are you?"

She looked away from the principal of the prestiged Bodhum High, and focused her attention on the elegant window overseeing a stretching garden filled with greenery and flora. The woman scoffed loudly enough for the authoritative figure to hear, and crossed her legs with a mumble. With the hope that Serah would understand her resignation and be lenient due to the date, the woman had told her in her typical manner of speaking just yesterday. But Serah had insisted to make her sister go to school as a way of forgiving her, and Lightning would have none of it. But eventually, she gave in… how could she not? Serah knew every one of her soft spots and what it took to change her mind.

"And from what I can tell, you've got an impressive backstory. A full-fledged soldier at only nine, huh?"

"_Huh_." Lightning impressed herself with her own sarcastic tone. She's improved. This time, it was the principle who sighed, but Lightning shrugged it off and continued to stare at the beauty of the school's grounds. The whole thing would have gone much easier if her sister had been here to answer all the technical questions, but apparently Lightning had to do this herself. Sometimes, she questioned the cheerful girl's logic, but it couldn't be helped. The man paused, pressing two fingers to his head, before removing them and continuing with his interview of sorts.

"Well, all of your information checks out. You'd better watch that mouth of yours, though."

"Right."

Hastily standing up on her two legs, the twenty-one year old woman picked up a long, tan strap that was attached to a bag, and she slung it over her shoulder, ready to leave and start her four years of misery. She made sure to grab a manila folder that the principal had pushed over to her side of the desk, most likely a welcome packet of some kind with multiple syllabi to sign and rules to read. Lightning wasn't the type of person to actually read through any of those types of papers, but she supposed that she would take it for good measure. Her strides were wide and dignified, and as she walked out of the office without another word or glance her hand dropped the folder into her near-empty, weightless bag. She would dispose of it later.

But… she supposed that she needed to at least take a look at it now. It had completely slipped her mind to read her schedule, and that was more than likely the most important paper in the package anyways. Without further ado, the woman slipped her hand into the bag once more to pull out the folder, still aimlessly walking through the hallway. She opened it and promptly found her class schedule; it was the very first item. After dumping the file back into the satchel, her fingers unfolded the paper to reveal her schedule, which had seven classes and an extra study period. Huh. The principal did say something about that; he had stated that Lightning had passed each entrance exam with flying colors, but he had to put her into a few courses that she already understood due to some technical jargon that she didn't really care to know of.

It read as follows: Calculus 2, Advanced Placement Biology, English 3, Study Hall, Freshman Lunch, Fitness, Advanced Placement Government, and Architecture. But wait… lunch with the puny freshmen? There was no way that could work out. She was, at the very least, six years older than the students of her class. She had classes that were beyond their comprehension. And yet she had to eat with them. Lightning huffed in pitiful denial, but she soon realized that she couldn't just enter a school without consequences unlikely to her favor. Serah would have to hear about this; the girl more than likely had a part in the whole mishap.

Lightning growled as she made her way through the maze of bland, twisting vestibules that cut her a path to the current period, which for her would have been study hall. There wasn't much to do, and absolutely nothing for her to study, so the woman arrived at the conclusion that she could just practice with her sword in the probably empty lounge. Maybe she would be able to sneak into the gymnasium, work out a little. Again, the odds were not in her favor, but the woman couldn't help but hope that they were.

Light flooded into a room no larger than her bedroom as she set down her bag, its contents probably folded. The windows were grand, yet the room held an aura of quiet innocence. She smiled, after scouting its every corner for others; it was totally empty. With that grin in tow, she drew out her blade and it assembled itself neatly and swiftly. Her eyes flittered around the room, for surely there was some sort of mechanism that would allow her to train? She could leap daintily upon the shelves and slash at thin air on a narrow ground, but that held no challenge.

A sigh escaped her lips, and she sheathed her sword, a little flustered as to what to do. There were plenty of books, but most were for teens, younger than she. But maybe there was a treasure hidden within the angst-ridden pile of paper, and the possibility made her nerves run wild. The woman walked over to a promising case filled with musty novels, and her slender arm picked a certain one out for her. The title spoke to her in a metaphorical sense, and she smiled, a pang of sadness remnant on her lips. The book suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand tons in her hand, but the woman held it up anyways, her crystal-blue eyes searing a hole into the bare spine. The golden letters that had been pushed in ever so slightly to read as the title called to every fiber of her being, quite strongly.

"Of course. What else could it be?"

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><p>She had walked into the cafeteria with a fierce air about her, and not a single soul had their attention elsewhere. Murmurs and whispers pertaining to the strawberry blonde could be heard from all around, but she carelessly strode past, settling near the exit to the yard behind the building. She let her left shoulder lean on the wall where the door was inset, disregarding the warnings about not blocking the door, and she folded her arms and crossed her legs. She was in the middle of deep thought on how to survive the rest of the day when a man that smelled strongly of cologne and of alcohol made his way to her. She scoffed at his audacity, and closed her eyes. He seemed to be fourteen years old.<p>

"Hey there, baby! Wanna do a little dance at my place?"

She continued to ignore him, and his words didn't even reach her ears before she let out a highly audible _no_. He laughed, then an arm made its way around her waist. The older woman now snapped her eyes wide open to take in the sight – he had black hair that resembled Cid's, and typical fourteen-year-old clothing. Nothing too special, but a football jersey was on his person. She wore the same thing she always wore; it never failed her in terms of comfort and utility, so she never bothered to change her ways.

"Do you know who runs this school?"

Lightning had enough of his rude boldness, and easily kicked him in the stomach, without even breathing another word. He yelped a curse and stared her hard in the eyes, readying his hand to pull a punch. She let out a _tsk_ and adeptly moved her body with little difficulty, avoiding his throw. After all, she was a trained soldier with no place at a school – she had almost forgotten why she was here in the first place.

"Baby doll, don't be like that.

"Leave."

"What did you say?"

"Leave."

The woman spoke with an authoritative tone; it made your head go awry and your body bow down at your feet. She knew how to get people to leave her alone one way or another, and this was the most peaceful way that she could think of. Of course, the fact that every eye in the cafeteria was now trained on her did not help one bit, and she closed her eyes again, taking up her previous spot. The kid was tall, but her massive height topped his – she was five foot seven, strange for a female but great for a soldier. That was exactly what she was; she was a soldier. A cold, trained assassin.

"That's not sweet at all, honey."

A pause wedged its way into his chatter.

"Don't like talking? You must like it hard."

Another pause, this time more drawn out. But then, she sighed for what felt like the tenth time that day. But before he could advance any more, she slapped away the arm that had attached itself to her waist and threw his body to the opposing wall, the crowd of students parting in horror as they watched him hit the plaster with a moan of pain. When the sea of teenagers turned their heads back to her, she was already brushing her waist, as if his touch had spawned monsters and she was picking them off, one by one.

"What?"

Her reflexes were abnormally quick, and the phrase came out more as a jeer when a student sitting near her stared at her, his arms trembling in fright. Lightning hadn't meant for things to get so heated, but she despised touch of any kind, even if it was emotional. She refused to get close to anyone at all, for fear of a terrible fate to befall that person. When the principal's voice didn't ring through the halls and a teacher didn't come over to take her there, she came to the conclusion that there might be some sense after all in coming here; she might have to fix the whimsical, disappointing society of the adolescents.

Twenty-one years she had lived, but not a single one of them had she felt so awkward. It wasn't that she was stared at – she didn't care, to be perfectly honest – but it was the fact that she was seven years old than most other people in the room. How could she spend four years with these people, when she was seven years apart from them? Serah had no idea what was coming for her when the woman reached the house, but it wasn't a lecture or a punch in the face, if that. It was a simple, "I'm not going." to relate the woman's thoughts to her sister. That would be possible, if she was physically able to get through the entire day without getting expelled. And, of course, there was the matter of her shiny new dorm to be settled. She would figure something out to escape the grave she had just dug for herself.


	2. Welcome to the Seaside City of Bodhum

**Author's Note****:** So I tweaked a few things in the last chapter, the main updates being Lightning's height and the name dilemma. You probably don't have to read the whole thing again; basically, all you need to know is that she is 5'7" and that the troublemaker (_minor spoiler:_ who does show up again!) does not know her name. I don't really like this chapter, but I suppose it's necessary in their relationship. As Hope didn't truly like Lightning in the beginning of the game - or at least, until he saw that she hated Snow almost as much as he did - I tried to incorporate some of that in this. However, as I didn't really like the draft of the third chapter, I am rewriting it to be more streamlined and in character. Speaking of that... am I improving? And yeah, this chapter's yet another short one. I'm sorry... but I'll work on making them longer! You can expect lengthier chapters in the near future. Thanks to my dear reviewers for pointing those two things out to me! You guys are so welcoming. ヽ(；▽；)ノ

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWO: WELCOME TO THE SEASIDE CITY OF BODHUM<strong>

He stared at the wall that towered above his body, the school sending chills down his spine. His father had moved to the seaside city of Bodhum a few weeks ago and he was to transfer into the school as a freshman. Palumpolum held a myriad of memories for the father and son of the woman who had recently passed away, Nora. Without warning only a week after her meek accident, his father at strode up to him and bluntly ordered him to pack his bags, that they were moving to Bodhum, and that there was no discussion. The child had not wanted to question his father's motives – because he was feeling similarly about the usually enjoyable districts of his hometown – but only now had the reality of the situation sunk into his brain. They had moved to Bodhum.

Pushing in the doors of the great academy ever so slightly as to not hurt anyone behind it, as he often did, the boy peeked into the grand hall, looking this way and that. He clutched the black strap of his duffel, needing an anchor in the newfound sea that he was about to step into. It seemed like everyone was in class due to the time and the emptiness of the stretched floor in front of his little body, but he wasn't certain. Mustering a bit of courage, the teenager waddled up the aisle until he set his eyes upon an opaque glass door with a little black sign. The golden letters read as the principal's office, and he pushed through the threshold, ready to sign forms and jut get the transfer over and done with.

But when he stepped into the room, he stopped right in his tracks. A strawberry blonde hovered above him, her head snapped to appraise the newcomer. She must not have found him to be a threat or an object of interest, as she abruptly swiveled her head back to another adult; a man with light purple-silver locks. The boy nervously gulped quietly, and then he spoke, just now had it dawned upon him that it might have been a bad time.

"I'm sorry, I was just coming to get some forms. I'll wait –"

"I was just leaving."

The woman spoke with a bold, administrative tone that made him want to bow down to her feet almost immediately. She tapped the red scarf hanging from her left shoulder gently before making her way to the door, but the man she had left in the middle of what may have been an important conversation jeered at her.

"This isn't over, Lightning."

She looked at him and smiled, then a shrug tugged at her shoulders. Without another word, she slithered through the door. Realizing that he was still standing in the office and the head of the school was waiting for him to get to his business, he turned back, an apology at the ready almost immediately. The man tilted his head up expectantly to the adolescent, straightening his glasses with a to-the-point hand motion.

"You must be Hope Estheim. Your father called about your coming here."

"He did?" The boy muttered it almost inaudibly.

"Yes. In fact, you don't have much to fill out aside from basic information. Your old school took care of that."

"Oh… well, in that case, can I have the papers?" He always felt a little flabbergasted around officials; it came out as a whisper. "Of course. But there is one last matter to take care of." There was a long, dragged out pause before the older man continued, and Hope began to feel more than a little lost in the conversation. Sure, it had been smooth sailing since the woman had left, but her face had sent chills down his spine, and they weren't the good kind. There was something… wrong with her. He couldn't put his finger on it. Before his thoughts could wander any more, the principal spoke again. Making a mental note quickly, Hope returned his full attention to the matter at hand, though his focus was now more than a little jarred.

"You'll need to bunk with someone, and we don't have any spots left except for one."

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><p>Of all the people going to the school, he had to be stuck with the one who just didn't fit in with the rest. He could have been paired with anyone else except for her; he would have been accepted any other fate aside from this unjust one. He knocked tentatively on the creamy white door, and there was a long bout of silence before the very same woman he had seen in the principal's – a mister Yaag Rosch's – office. After letting his knuckled kiss the modern paneling once more, the boy jumped back as an irritated pinkette answered his nonverbal call. She seemed extremely agitated, like he had broken her focus on a very important assignment, more important that something as petty as school.<p>

"What?" She shifted her weight to the other leg, crossing her arms in the process. The woman looked much older than what he knew to be even a senior's age, but didn't question her. Instead, he showed her a slip of paper with a signature from the purple-haired man. "I'm supposed to live in this dorm." That caught her by surprise, and the look on her face changed from one of annoyance to one of fast awareness, and then to one of contempt. He mentally shrank back, and fought the urge to let his body do the same. How could he live with such a deadly woman on such short notice? Not to mention that she seemed to be double his age. Well, that might have been an overstatement, but –

Before even realizing what was going on, the teen was grabbed by a cold, hard, iron grip akin to that of a vice on his forearm as she dragged him into the living space, and he could have sworn that she muttered more than a few curses under her breath. And again, without a warning, he was dropped like a cardboard package and straightened up his body, still clutching the duffel's strap, which was pulling his shoulder down.

"We need ground rules. Don't touch me, ever. You sleep there, and not anywhere else." She delayed for less than a second to point to a room to the left. He couldn't see what was inside due to the closed white door, but he would take a better look later. She then turned to lash her finger out angrily at a room to the right, presumably her bedroom. "That's off-limits. Don't bring people over. And the rest, you can figure out yourself. Oh, you'd better lock the bathroom door. Or else." Before he could even begin to react, she stalked off towards the door that was apparently off-limits to him, and the slam of it was deafeningly loud. He squeaked only to find that he was left alone in the dorm, without so much as a proper orientation to get settled.

He thought that he would check out the kitchenette and living room first, to get a feel for the place. But he knew that carrying the bag around pointlessly would only make him tired; the result that he had arrived at after mulling it over was to drop it off in his room, maybe investigate that first. It was where he would spend most of his time, so he should get comfortable as soon as he could. Dragging his feet so as to reach his new chambers, Hope turned the silver sphere and pushed the door in, advancing inside before anything else could happen. But nothing would happen, because it was a normal day and a normal school with a slightly off-putting roommate.

Shrugging off the thick, padded belt into the revolving desk chair, Hope continued to let his skin meet the bed, flopping clumsily onto its pale blue sheets like a small child. Well, he was a small child. A shudder was sent down his aching spine, and suddenly the boy felt water threatening his eyes. The scent of the fabric reminded him of home; it reminded him of his mother. He seemed more like a toddler than anything else. He slowly curled up, his balled fists clutching onto the sheets like a lifeline.

A single tear made its way from his eye and to the bed, and he twitched sporadically, trying desperately to hold his emotions back. It was his first day in an entirely new place; he had to be strong. He couldn't just break down like this! He was supposed to be a man. Hope's entire body jerked, this time more violently. His muffled sobs could be heard, even though his jaw hurt from all the clenching. OF all of the days in the year, it just had to be this one. The one day that he was trying to make a new beginning; the one day that he was trying to forget.

He didn't hear his new roommate open the door, but he supposed that she heard his wailing from the other side of the apartment, for she strode in on her great legs and stroked his side, forcing calm words into the air. The platinum blonde quivered at her touch, suddenly aware of her presence. Yet he could not stop crying, and his fists just continued to ruin the fabric as if his mind was of no significance. She lulled his muscles; eased their agony with sickeningly sweet and kind words. From what he could gather, the soldier didn't seem to bother herself with words or emotions, and she didn't seem particularly fond of him. So why was she here, patting his back? But Hope couldn't wrap his head around the dilemma, because sleep soon found a way to break his nostalgia and homesickness.

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><p>The first thing he saw was the ground.<p>

The boy immediately straightened up, and surveyed the surrounding area. It appeared that he fell off his bed, as the sheets were tangled around his little body and he was no longer on the mattress. With a groan, the teenager rose, dragging the blanket with him. He unwound himself from them in a rather childish manner, then neatly ironed them out on his new bed with his hands. It was only then that he realized something was amiss; where had the soldier gone? He remembered that she was here, in his room, comforting him when he was so weak.

But he didn't like her. For some reason, she exerted an aura of pressure and mystery, one that smelled of vagueness and brutal honesty at the same time. Hope didn't like puzzles he couldn't solve. When he turned the knob of the white threshold dividing his room from the hallway, he did not hesitate and pressed onwards, an apology already forming in his brain. Though he didn't particularly like the woman, he had to give her some form of gratitude for his bout of… insecurity.

"Um… miss?" It was only now that he figured out that he didn't know her name, but decided that it wasn't the right time to ask. "Thank you for being there for me." A huff of displeasure could be heard from the kitchen, and he smelled something that ambiguously resembled a type of soup that he couldn't quite put his finger on. When he didn't hear any other response, the silverhead decided to press his luck. "What're you cooking?"

"Something for me, not you." came yet another short, to the point response. By this time, Hope had strolled casually into the kitchen, hoping to forget the events of the former night, but his luck had run out and she wasn't about to let it slip past. "Don't do that again. You're loud and irritating." She was just so impolite and… _impetuous_. That was a great word to describe her; she was impetuous. She didn't think that what she said would hurt the feelings of other people, it was either that or the fact that she didn't care. Or maybe it was both, but however her mind worked, the boy had an insult writhing to break free from his mouth, but because of her uncharacteristic generosity in the form of a gentle caress, he decided otherwise.

"Sorry." After a pause that he decreed to be long enough for Hope to change the subject, he hastily added, "Do you think you could make a little for me, too?" This time she simply scoffed, and poured light liquid with various vegetables into a porcelain bowl. As the rest of the dorm had no markings, the utensils and dishes followed suit, which upset the adolescent, even if it was only a little. Maybe he would address it later – along with the naming matter – but now was definitely not the time as she strode right past him and settled on the tattered brown couch, her legs pulled up and crossed on the puffy chestnut cushion. He sighed to himself and made his way to the steel refrigerator; perhaps she kept some raw ingredients for a salad. Foolishly, he even thought to strike up a conversation, because he received no answer from his question.

"You don't really like talking, do you?"

He could almost feel the awkwardness come to him in waves from her direction. Maybe it wasn't a good idea.

"So… what's your story?"

She didn't acknowledge him; instead she opted to sip a little of her meal. This was going well.

"Okay… well, you have impeccable taste –"

"Stop talking for _two seconds_." Finally, she answered him! Not in the way that he had wanted, but it was something.

"Okay. Sorry." It was unusual for him to keep on apologizing like this, but he felt like he would have to change up his behavioral patterns to avoid becoming the next effigy for this woman. Not to mention that his father had immediately sent him to a school in which you had to _live_ there; this was becoming all too much for the child's head to digest. He had even cried over it, at least, last night he had. But he had to be stronger if he didn't want to be the laughing stock of the strawberry blonde, and he did as he was told, but his mouth remained closed for more than two seconds.

Oh. She had just mocked him. The awareness slapped him in the face like her hand probably would one day. He felt violated somehow, even though she had hardly managed to scrape together a sentence. The tone of her voice was just so… humiliating! She made him feel as if he was a toddler and she a grown-up, which was similar to their situation anyways. He would have to bring up her age sometime, too. The curious teenager's stomach roared, pulling his mind back to his hands, which had frozen in the middle of tossing his puny salad.

A light could be found sparkling in her eyes for just a moment; it was from her amusement. Torturing this poor kid was _fun_, albeit sick and unjust. The woman finished her unusual breakfast in the exact same moment that the platinum blonde concluded concocting his own meal. She stood up, and as she strutted to the sink to dump the bowl into, the woman could almost swear that the boy muttered something directed at her. It seemed like more of a question than a statement, and she just had to ask him to speak up in her own harsh way.

"I was just making a note to buy some detergent." Unbeknownst to the silverette, the woman knew that it wasn't his true thought, as she had bought a plethora of cleaning chemicals last week, and she didn't use it all up in that tiny window of time. She washed her hands under ice cold water, then stalked off to the door that Hope was not allowed through; she wanted some time alone to think. But something compels her to not go in that direction; something deep inside her stirs and pulls her body to the front door instead. Regarding it as nothing more than an omen, the woman reprimands herself in her mind and trots to the door, fixing the scarf on her shoulder with her right hand as she moved.

"I'm going out. Don't try anything."

He nodded in understanding, and then shifted his hungry jade eyes back on the green entourage that he had created, the stainless steel fork in his hand stabbing through the flesh of the material, his mouth quickly devouring it. He heard the door close lightly – not like the last time she shut a door – and footsteps faded into silence as the boy continued to munch on his salad, mulling over a decision in his head.

The woman didn't seem to buy his story. But of course she wouldn't there was every reason not to. She has been living in the apartment for much longer than he has, and she would probably know the amount of every single product she purchased, and where it was. The soldier's cold exterior told him this. Hope wanted to take a gander at the room he wasn't allowed to go into; it was, after all, off-limits, and he was a teenager. Teenagers do what they're told not to – everybody _knows_ that. Her other commands were logical and reasonable, but that one alone seemed far-fetched. He wanted to see what was in that room, and a comment on how he shouldn't go in there wouldn't stop him.

After neatly placing the bowl in the sink alongside hers, Hope dragged his feet to her dull entryway, latching his hand absentmindedly on the handle. His heart was screaming at him, telling him that it was immoral to betray her trust at such a vital place in the relationship – if it could even be called one; she had probably spoken less than ten words since they met – that he should leave her be and ask no questions, yet his thoughts countered with phenomenal theories both idiotic and plausible about what could possibly be behind the door. His grip tightened, and his fingers dangerously tormented him, and the boy was cut into two.

Eyes now tightly shut, he turned the knob without stealing a glance. Whatever abomination was lurking in there, it had to be something on a grand scale. Something that he could feel pressured by; something he could fear. Desiring the secret to be something abnormally intriguing, he turned the knob, but couldn't quite step through the threshold and open those green orbs of his. He couldn't violate the woman like that, not even when she was as bitter as she was. She was his roommate, and how could they get off on the right foot if their conversations were filled with hidden altercations and candy-coated slander?

The teenager stood there, and it didn't even occur to him that the door may in fact be locked foreshadowing this sort of intrusion on her private property. He didn't depress the door into the other room; he instead pulled it back and let it be, in lieu of the fact that the mystery woman might be back at any time. Sighing loudly, the boy turned around, and leaned against the paneling. The truth he had wanted to see since the moment she had told him to stray away; it was that same truth behind the supposedly open door. So why couldn't he just open the damned thing? Why couldn't he just… free the worry form his mind and take a peek at the covered treasure?

The smiling figure of his mother blurred his vision. That was the reason why. He wasn't able to let go. He wasn't able to do something so hurtful – even to someone who he wasn't the biggest fan of – because his mother had told him not to. She had smiled at him so many years ago, and patted his head gently. "You're a great secret-keeper." That was what she had told him. Just that. It was simple enough for a small child like he was at the time to understand, but the subliminal meaning was far greater; it was the very glue by which he was bound to his existence. Hope Estheim was a trustworthy boy indeed.

He scurried to his own room and unzipped the duffel, hauling various folded garments and books out of the pack. He even tucked away his trusty – how could he even use that word now? – boomerang. He wasn't a very good fighter, but if the time came when he had to protect himself from the enigma, he would have some line of defense. Even if it was small, and even if he couldn't wield it properly, the boy still had a slim chance against that dastardly lady.

"Pull yourself together, Hope." He normally didn't talk to himself like that, but anyone who could witness the scene and hear the thoughts flowing through his mind would automatically know that he was torn to shreds over a matter so insignificant to many. It might as well have been if it weren't for the wish of his mother. The adolescent finished unpacking his things, and sat in the black rolling office chair, licking his lips. If only she knew what he wanted to do. She would have laughed and held him close, and she would have told him some sort of cutesy story to teach a lesson – one that would stick. One that he would understand, and one that he would be able to relate to. He constantly missed his mother, but he had to move on. But how could one possibly move on when their own mother had fallen to the hands of a murderer?

* * *

><p>"Raines."<p>

"Lightning! You're absolutely stunning, as you usually are. But there isn't any time for formalities. We've got a job for you."

"I quit, remember?"

"I'm rejecting your plea. And it's for your own good."

"Raines, this isn't funny. I _quit_ for good."

"I have the power to reinstate you."

The two adults were bent over in an alleyway; speaking in hushed tongues. But now, the roseate stood tall and proud, giving off a sigh. The man was dressed in an elegant outfit – he had a cape-like cloth floating over his left shoulder, and an embroidered, decorated coat dropping a little above his ankles. A variety of other pieces marked the outfit as complete, but they were hard to distinguish in such lighting. There was, however, a bright orange tie tucked into his shirt. Ever the gentleman.

"I'm not going back." At that, the man stiffened, his snakelike eyes teasing her in delight. He was planning something, and the woman could feel his motives for it from the way he brushed subtly against her, from the way he stared at her when he thought she wasn't looking. But they were friends and coworkers, nothing more than that. Her only hope was that could understand that, for once. Her indignant stare pierced through his, and the furrowed brow she added at the last second really made an impact. The man sighed, and leaned forward.

"It doesn't work that way, soldier. It's what you are and always will be. You can't just quit, Lightning."

"I just did, and I do repeat: I'm not going back. Now, don't tail me, because you and I both know how that'll end."

She tapped his head lightly, even though he was taller than her, and stalked off in the opposite direction. Of course, he let his fingers linger on her bare shoulder a millisecond longer than they should have, and she could feel his breath on her neck as he caressed her gently, mouth moving less than an inch from her ear. "Come back to the Corps. You were one of my best men… we could fight them together, side by side. Remember what you told me all those years ago?"

She huffed, and peeled his hands from around her and settled them on his sides, yet her face remained that of a soldier's. No emotion could be heard in her monotonous voice; it was like tendrils from a rose slashing him into pieces. It wasn't what the woman wanted to resort to, but this was getting ridiculous. She just wanted to forget those years, not live to fight another day. "I'm not coming back, Raines, and I think it's time for us to go our separate ways." As the words jumped out of her mouth, she immediately regretted it, but it was something she just had to do. It was necessary for him not to involve himself any further in her life, and for her to detach herself from his. It was the only way to stop this madness.

"Lightning, wait! You're still ever as stubborn…"

She didn't take even a quick peek back; for if she did, she would have given in to his cunningly placed look of rejection and followed him back to the brigade. But Lightning had made a decision; one of many. If she just thought of it as that – a mission, like any other – she would be okay. No phantoms would dare to haunt her if she thought of what she just did as a necessary evil, she would be fine.

Another problem posed itself in front of the young woman. She remembered the promise she made to her sister almost two months ago, and she would be expecting the pinkette's decision soon on whether or not she would agree to something so permanent. Serah had coaxed her into going to the damned school. She had given her two months to give a firm opinion on where Lightning stood on the matter; a trial period, she had called it. As the soldier steadily marched away from her former general, she could hear footsteps that hesitated in their path – they were conflicted, like she, and while their hearts pulled to one direction, their brains pulled to another, but more strongly. Raines had turned the other way. She was glad.

Now, back to the other matter at hand. The deadline was arriving faster than she had expected, and though she was dead-set on the topic, a speech had not been prepared to ease both girls. How could it have been, when she was still sitting knee-deep in that grave of hers? Lightning continued to let her eyebrows point downwards, lost in thought as to what her next play should be in the game. Serah would be devastated, but she couldn't _live_ like this. There was still time, but she just couldn't see herself changing her mind so quickly over a short period of time, not without good reason. And none were to be found. Her new roommate thought of her as a rude, ignorant, and selfish old geezer with a thirst for making other people miserable. Who knew, maybe she did like seeing little kids shudder and shy away with a small scowl from her.

It was certainly a possibility.

Darkness enshrouded the city, taking over the light that the streets once knew. A quote from a superior squeezed its way into her mind: _light cannot exist without forming shadow, and in turn, good cannot exist without forming evil._ That superior was one and the same as the one she had left to his devices just moments ago. The roseate couldn't help but let a smile find its way to her lips as she thought fondly of his memory, before she had told him the truth of her motives behind joining the Corps. It wasn't to aid them in protecting the public, and it wasn't to combat the fal'Cie. It wasn't even to explore her options. There was a single, logical purpose driving her every move, and it was to avenge those she held dear. Living or not, they had suffered long enough for her to just stand around as a weeping child, and it was when she became the lightning of thunderstorms. The bringer of anger. The bringer of… destruction. That was much more accurate. It didn't heal; it only destroyed.


	3. Follow the Great Alyssa

**Author's Note:** Sorry that this took over a month to get to you guys! Seriously... I've been extremely busy. Not only that, but there are several other games that I've been chipping away at. Even though this chapter is yet another short one (only a bit over 2k) I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless! Also, I've seen that people like to reply to their reviews in their notes, so I guess I'll do that as well. (*´・ｖ・)

Electronic-Star: Yup, it sure is! I've been reading them for a while now, but... I haven;t actually gotten around to writing any sort of plausible fanfiction up until now. Hope you enjoy this update, then!  
><span>The Light to all Fears:<span> Thank you very much! (´；ω；`) I've got a plot sort-of outlined, but it's all mostly in my head. I hope I'm able to translate it onto paper for you to read! I hope you enjoy this update. (:  
>ziel101: Thank you! (`；○；`) Yeah, I tend to stay away from them, but sometimes people make their age difference work, which is what I'm trying to accomplish. Thanks for the correction - I fixed it! I'm not a good judge on height, so I didn't know what to put for hers and just took a wild guess. Hope you enjoy this update, then!<br>Andrea Ye: You found out in chapter two. (; He's actually neither! And thank you for the correction, I've fixed it in that chapter. Hope you enjoy this update!  
><span>Angel-of-Fire-04:<span> Well, the part where she's a teen is all italicized. I thought that was a good enough indicator? And there's a whole part about her daydreaming/reminiscing about the past. And to me, it looked like he had silvery-purple hair, but I fixed it anyways. This story is in an alternate universe, so the positions have been altered... but who knows, he might be wiser than you think. (; I hope you enjoy this update!  
><span>StakeTheHeart:<span> Well, you know Serah. Being the ditz that she is, she thought that enrolling her twenty-one year old sister in a high school for teenagers would somehow give her the satisfaction of going to school, as Lightning never had the "privilege". But she might have conspired it all up to make Lightning meet Hope... who knows? (; I hope you enjoy this update!

Please do take the time to review, it only takes up a few minutes of your time but brings great joy to me. ヽ(；▽；)ノ They also give me motivation to work on the next chapter! So... without further ado, I present to you, my dear reader, chapter three.

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><p><strong>CHAPTER THREE: FOLLOW THE GREAT ALYSSA<strong>

"Hey! Wait for me!" Hope clumsily gathered up his duffel and let it drop on his shoulder, and managed to grab his coat from his chair before she walked out of the door. He still didn't know the woman's name, but he didn't need to in order to figure out that something happened when she came back yesterday. Her demeanor was as it usually was, but something about her gait had changed; she seemed to have a broken attitude. Of course, he didn't pry, partly because he didn't care but partly because he was afraid of her.

A scoff could be heard, followed with an ice-cold "Hurry up." He did as he was told.

She was leaning against the door frame, studying that damn sword as she waited for him. It looked like she coveted it; he didn't ask, as usual, but he couldn't help but be curious about its value, sentimental or otherwise. Her fingers were running across the side, and she held it dangerously close to her own body. If she fell somehow, she could slit her own throat. But he figured that she wasn't that reckless; in the short time that the teen had known the woman, if there was one thing he learned about her it was that she was careful.

Locking the door as he stumbled out of the dorm, she huffed at him, eyes scowling, and then she returned her gaze to the creamy hallway in front of them, watching as other half-awake children hastily perked up as they felt her eyes bore into them. She held so much power in the school… he wondered why. This was his first day, and when he woke up she was already leaving. He had to make her wait, because he didn't know what to do or where to go, and he had told her that it was her duty as his roommate to explain these things to her. She had growled at him, but had stayed for about a half hour before wanting to leave again, and he was in the middle of dressing himself after his shower. He guessed that the army had trained her to get herself prepared for anything within a moment's notice.

"No talking." she told him, simply. He nodded, and jogged a little to walk side by side with her, though he wasn't sure if he could keep the pace up for long since they were going so fast. They continued to trot in silence, and Hope kept bringing his bag up uncomfortably to rest on his shoulder. She noticed this eventually, but did not say a word. He mumbled under his breath; if she didn't care, why did she have to stare at him for a full minute? Realizing that she was doing it again, but due to a different cause, his sentence stuttered, wonder and anger replaced by repentance and obedience.

She still didn't make a move or a word, and instead opted to continue down the hallway to the stairs when he had clearly seen them pass an elevator a few moments ago. He looked at her quizzically, and decided to voice his concern. "Um… why can't we take the elevator?"

Eyes of piercing blue caught his gaze, and he retreated underneath their characteristic scowl, not prepared for whatever hell she wanted to rain down upon him. But she just continued to stand there, in the middle of the hallway, and her face held an air that seemed to be asking, _shouldn't that be obvious?_ But it wasn't; at least, not for him. Other students frantically flocked to the elevator, and the woman seemed to be challenging him. With her body movements, it was almost like she wanted him to leave and follow the kids his age, but he stood his ground. Resentment apparent in her voice, the woman sighed and continued on to open the door and descend the stairs.

"You can take it. I don't like elevators."

It was simple. He wasn't expecting a grandiloquent, perplexing response, but this one was a bit too basic, and he wanted a bit more information. After contemplating her reaction for a flight or two, by the time they reached the next floor in their trek to the ground the boy spoke once more, filling the silence-filled air with words.

"Why don't you like them? I mean, they might not be the most stable thing that the world has to offer, but…"

A sigh, a pause, and then an answer. He was mostly exasperated, but he was just a tad excited.

"They aren't safe." I didn't sound like the truth, or a concise answer, but as she told it, the words seemed to flow out of her mouth more evenly and smoothly. It was as if she didn't believe that he would take her response until she actually voiced it, and as soon as she was done speaking, something clicked and she hastened her step, practically breaking into a jog. Hope couldn't cope up with the pressure on his legs, and soon enough, his knees buckled.

That woman… was _crazy_. That was the only logical explanation. That was _the_ only explanation. It had to be true.

"Hey, you're the new kid!" A cheerful girl dropped herself into the silver-haired boy's exit before he could make a move to follow it. She had blonde hair, and walked straight up to him, hands behind her back. The campus was filled to the brim with weird and eccentric characters, and this girl was no exception. She smiled gleefully at him, then leaned a bit too much for his liking into his personal space, staring down his eyes with vigor. And before he knew it, a tap from her knuckles and a breath later she had leaned back into a comfortable distance. He rolled his eyes, both mentally and physically. This wasn't the time to be playing games with his head; he needed to get to his next class and continue the ritual of, "I'm new", followed by a few interrogations.

"Yeah, I am. Um… would you mind showing me where the Fitness class is?"

"Of course I do ~ follow the great Alyssa!"

She was pompous, that much he could discern from her gait and her attitude. He of all people had to be caught up with such a cast of… colorful – for lack of a better term – people. Hope was beginning to stray far from his namesake; he knew better but constantly kept to the pessimistic, negative side of things. He used to be so different. He used to be so amiable and extroverted, but all of that changed even before his mother had fatefully passed away. If only he could fix all of this. He mumbled his thanks and was quickly dragged by the arm to Maker-knows-where. He only hoped that she wasn't secretly a bully in disguise sent by the force to kidnap and terrorize his poor body with wave after wave of now meaningless punches. It had happened before, so he did know how to deal with it. In a passive, non-aggressive way, but he could deal with the pain all by himself. It _had_ happened before.

Hope was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice that the girl had put a stop to her gallivanting and was now teetering impatiently on her feet, a pout eminent on her features. He gave a swift apology – mumbled as per the usual – and she grinned once more, seemingly brighter than the last.

"This is the boys' changing room! Hey, I never got your name. It must be something cool, huh? I bet it is!"

"Estheim. Hope Estheim. And thank you for showing me here."

He didn't actually memorize landmarks or anything, but the school's labyrinth was essentially a square, and if you couldn't find the room all you really had to know was the floor. She patted him on the shoulder, and sprinted away in a mad dash, running to her next class, probably. He sympathized a little bit for her; she had wasted time to show him where to go that he had forgotten that she needed to be somewhere, too. Maybe he would get a chance to make a half-sincere apology later.

Oh no. That _woman_ is rubbing off on him. Curse her and her damn dishonest policies.

Upon opening the door, he realized that it was the women's dressing room. And that he was barging in on their privacy. And that he was a man.

To make it even more daunting of a feat to have accomplished… his roommate was halfway through changing. He didn't want to look, but unfortunately he had caught a glance as he opened the door, and his eyes had never deceived him – she had a large black tattoo on her chest, but he couldn't get a good look at it. He didn't _want_ to get a good look at it. He just wanted to run the hell out of there and not look back; hopefully they would all forget about this incident and leave him be. But a few blushed and the woman he was so very terrified of made a very real threat, and somehow she already had her saber drawn. He heard it unclench.

He was dead. He was so very dead. That kid – was her name Alyssa? – she had teased the poor kid, and only now had he begun to let it sink into his brain. Only now, after the initial shock had set in. Only now, as the girls screamed in violation of their privacy. He was so, so dead. He just wanted to go home and curl up with his mother, but that wasn't possible, either. He had no options.

He stuttered, and felt a heat rise up his cheeks as he looked away, backing up from the door and closing it. "I-I'm sorry! I'm r-really, really s-sorry!" Jeers and dirty shirts hit the door as it screeched into place, the rusty hinges creaking with every new garment thrown. He felt bad, but there was no denying that he was new here. He tightened his grip on his duffel, and made it a point to move as fast as he could away from the locker room, but a force grabbed his back and turned him over, and in turn Hope fell flat on his back on the cold ground, looking straight up to find the face of an angry pinkette.

"Have you no shame? Or do you think that you can get away with that, because you're new?"

"I-I'm sorry! I-I'm s-s-sorry! P-Please! I'm…"

A blow to his side let his last phrase end like that, and his voice opted to cry out in agony as she kneeled down beside him, readying herself to chance another hit. He cringed at her closeness – this horrible lady's closeness – and he instinctively covered his head with his hands, trying to prepare himself for whatever may present itself next. She yelled something that resembled a battle cry and punched him in the gut twice, then let a right hook slip into his opposite side. The boy jolted erratically at every move, fearful of what abominations the woman might bring into her arsenal next. But after those few blows, all that she had left was silence. Perhaps there was some good in her after all.

"I'll get you later, but for now, it's best for you if you beat it, punk."

The nerve. But he did as he was told, and stumbled backwards until somehow, he found his footing.

Then he ran through the hallway as fast as he could possibly go. If only his teacher could see him run right now…

Venturing slowly into the complex – his feet tapped the floor lightly, as if demons would sprout from them if he pressed any more weight into his soles – the boy found himself face-to-face with an exasperated, smoldering pinkette. He cringed and reached anywhere and everywhere for a grip as she latched one hand to his shoulder and dragged him into the living room, smashing the door into its frame with the other as she moved. Still astonished by her tenacity, Hope cowered in her grasp which only agitated her further, and it showed in a quick _tsk_ as she dropped him carelessly into the clutches of the confined sofa, her eyes staring directly at him with a fierce dignity to them. She meant business. "Why were you in that locker room?" Not one to lace her words with sweet icing; as usual.

"Someone led me there. I told you, I'm – "

"Shut up! I want to know who this person is who escorted you so kindly."

"Uh, she was blonde, and I think her name was Alyssa?" It came out as more of a question, but he was relieved nonetheless to see that she wasn't as angry as he had thought she would be. After handing over a few good slaps to his silver-framed face, the woman sighed and sat down right next to the traumatized boy. He shivered, still in shock from her assault, but managed to calm his breathing down enough so that he could hear her speak, whenever she did. But she simply sat there, on the couch, and closed her eyes. She was probably thinking… but he didn't know her well enough to truly make such a generalization.

"Well then… how about we make a deal?" the pinkette finally stated, her crystal blue eyes coldly gazing at his green eyes. The platinum blonde felt chills run down his spine from her beautiful yet deadly stare. But he silently nodded, though quickly, to keep the focus on her and the conversation going. For once, the woman understood that he was more than a little scared of her, and she lowered her tone to almost that of a mother's. For a split second, he thought that his own mother had leapt from the grave to speak with him… but that was not the case.

"Alright… I'll tell you my name if you can get that girl up here when I'm around."

What? How did she…?

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>CLIFFHANGERS. ARE. THE. WORST. I know... I'm sorry. ;n;


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